Another Side Effect of Waging War on Heaven
by Emilee Crumby
Summary: Castiel gets his first experience with human illness. Sam is caring but Dean seems to have no patience for it. sick!Castiel
1. Chapter 1

Castiel gets his first experience with the human cold. It's my first time really trying to add some plot into the story instead of just fluff. Not sure I like it, but whatever.

No intended slash but, in later chapters, it may not be hard to imagine.

This is all current (from what I remember).

I own nothing.

*********

"There has been talk of a second Antichrist," said Castiel. His voice rusted and he cleared his throat bringing the back of his cuff linked wrist to his mouth to do so.

Sam glanced sideways at Dean who stared, intently at the angel, oblivious to anything but the thought of this new threat. Castiel continued.

"There is a demon spreading the word that he, also, impregnated a human, nearly fifteen years ago," he stared fixedly at the boys as though waiting for comprehension to dawn.

"Well you know demons," shrugged Dean. "They talk. How do we know it's true?"

"We don't," Castiel swallowed and cleared his throat again. "But this isn't something we should risk ignoring."

"Is there any human corroborating?" asked Sam.

"Not that we've found."

"Do you have any idea where this kid could be?"

Castiel shook his head.

"So basically," Dean spoke up. "There may be an all powerful, potentially evil, devil child somewhere in the world, only you don't know where. And we're supposed to kill it, or whatever, even though we can't. I got that right?"

Castiel nodded but stopped short to cough. A quick burst of coughing quickly broke into a wrenching and painful hacking forcing him to bend forward and brace his hands against his knees. When he finished he regained composure and righted himself. He rested a hand on his throat and furrowed his eyebrows at the brothers.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean leaned over the man with a look of concern.

"I believe there's something the matter with my vessel." Castiel's eyes twisted with anxiety and he began to cough again, painful and gasping.

"What is it? Here, sit down," Dean interrupted himself as he eased the angel toward one of the beds in the latest motel room. Worry in his eyes, he began a quick search of the room until he found a bottle of water. Untwisting the cap, he handed it to Castiel, who thirstily drank.

"Dean," Sam whispered in an aside to his brother, still hovering over the bed. "Can I talk to you, real quick?"

"Sammy, what is it?" Dean snapped.

"Just come over here."

With an irritated sigh, Dean sidled up next to his brother so they were both facing Castiel. He sat at the edge of the bed, still sipping at the water, and wincing each time he swallowed.

"I think I know what's wrong with Cas," Sam said.

"What is it?" Dean's voice was laced with trepidation. "And how do _you_ know? Is it…?" he eyed his brother with a fatigued wariness and Sam felt the all-too-familiar jolt of shame.

"No Dean, it's not demonic. See, the other day, when you were talking to the coroner in Columbus, Cas and I were interviewing the family."

Castiel began to cough again and Dean moved forward to rest a hand on his back. "So what about it?" he asked, rubbing a hand down the angel's shoulders until the coughing fit began to subside.

"Well," Sam traced the word's carefully in his mind and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. "They had a kid, right. And she really liked Castiel; she wanted to show him all her dolls and whatever."

"Sam, get to the point."

"The thing is, she had this really bad cold."

Dean froze in the middle of his impromptu massage.

"What?"

Sam smirked. "She had a cold and she was holding Cas's hand and breathing all over him."

Dean stepped back and looked at the angel who chose that moment to sniffle, just a little.

"A cold? Our goddamn angel has a head cold?"

"What?" croaked Castiel. "What is that?"

Dean scowled. "It's the weakest disease you can get. You'll be fine. And you owe me a bottle of water."

Castiel eyed the bottle in his hand, mostly empty now, before offering it back.

Dean turned up his lip. "Germs, Cas. A fresh bottle of water. And when I say water, I mean Jack."

He smiled before grabbing his coat from the back of a chair. He strode towards the center of the room confident again, and seeming to rush from the prior moment's softness. "I'm going to the library. Tell me you at least know when this bastard was born."

"It's a female," corrected Castiel. "And she was born June 20, 1995."

"That's something, anyway," Dean said, pulling open the door. "I'll bring home dinner," he called behind him.

Castiel turned his eyes on Sam who had started scanning the laptop. "You are not going with him?"

"A job takes twice as long if we're both doing the same task," shrugged Sam. "Besides, after a lifetime of hunting, we've realized the importance of time apart."

"I see," Castiel said simply.

Another moment of silence passed and Sam looked over the computer screen to see a look of complete confusion on the angel's face. Castiel's eyes both watered and bugged, out as he began to breathe deeply.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked slowly.

"I'm not- not su…" Castiel's words trailed off as he whipped forward in a high-pitched "Aichii!"

Sam couldn't help but laugh out loud at the startled expression on the man's face. The sneeze had pulled him into a standing position and his pupils had fully dilated, like a cat's before pouncing.

"What…?" he asked shakily as he watched the boy's tall frame shake with laughter.

"A sneeze, Cas. That was your first sneeze," he explained when he could talk. "What did you think?"

Castiel settled back into an uneasy perch on the bed while he searched for the words to explain. "It was uncomfortable, at first. And then it felt… good." He looked up to see if his explanation were being comprehended. "I liked it."

Sam laughed again. "Well that's convenient. I imagine you'll be enjoying a lot more of those."

"They come with a cold?"

Sam shook his head. "You haven't spent a lot of time around humans, have you?"

"Clearly not enough," Castiel seemed dismayed and his head sunk for a moment before quickly rising again. "Sam, I think I'm going to have another one."

He waited for a moment, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, both enthralled and confounded with the state of his vessel. "This one is taking a very long time," he pondered aloud.

"Yeah," said Sam, back to the laptop. "Sometimes they do that."

Finally, after a lengthy torture, Castiel gripped the sides of the bed and sneezed again, freely. "Aichii!"

"Cover your mouth," said Sam, tossing a box of Kleenex onto the bed.

Castiel took a tissue pensively and rubbed it under his nostrils, as he had seen other people do.

"Gesundheit, by the way."

Castiel tipped his head, still clutching the tissue around his nose. "German?" His voice was fuzzy with congestion.

Sam pulled his fingers from the keyboard and looked ahead. "Somehow, it seems weird to bless and angel."

Castiel continue to look confused until Sam began to explain.

"It's polite to bless someone, or wish them good health when they sneeze. I guess it shows compassion. You're wishing them well, hoping they feel better."

"But Dead," Castiel paused and sniffled heavily before resuming. "Dean said colds are not a cause for concern."

"They're not," Sam's voice was frustrated. "Look, it's just polite okay. Don't make me explain it."

Sam went back to typing, leaving Castiel to reflect for a moment. Tentatively he swallowed, feeling a scratching pain roll down his throat. Come to think of it, that soreness had been there a few days. Clearly, he was not as in tune to Jimmy's needs as he might be.

New this morning, was a fuzzier pain behind the eyes. Not unbearable, by any means, but surely noticeable. Finally was the stopped up feeling behind his nose. It made speaking comically awkward. Along with this feeling was that tickling sensation in his sinuses; brand new in every way. Twice already it had mounted into a sneeze, a feeling of relief, Castiel had never imagined. Yet now it was subdued, and lingered at the bridge of his nose, neither quite coming nor going. It was strange, and not particularly pleasant.

After a lengthy period of reflection, Castiel became again aware of Sam's presence. The younger Winchester ran a tired hand across his eyes and then squinted, pressing his nose almost to touching the computer screen. Internally, Castiel reprimanded himself. It was not the first time he had been distracted by features of humanity, but he was too old and the situation was too dire for these distractions to infringe upon his work.

The sound of his abrupt rising made Sam look up from the laptop.

"Everything alright?" he inquired.

"I am going to speak with some of the angels still on my side. There is surely more information to be had."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

The question perplexed Castiel greatly. With his signature head cock he asked, "Why would I not be 'up for it'?"

"Well," Sam half-shrugged, "Colds can get pretty nasty."

"Dean said it is the 'weakest disease you can get.'"

Sam sighed. "Yeah well… just don't overdo it."

"I," and Castiel held up a pointer finger when the urge to sneeze suddenly strengthened again. "Aichii!! I won't."

********

With both his brother and the angel gone, Sam became absorbed in research. Nearly two hours passed before he even lifted his head to the purring, cat-shaped clock on the motel wall. It was just past nine-thirty and his research had finally proved fruitful.

He pulled out his phone and rubbed the blurriness from his eyes while texting Dean.

"I've got some good leads. You?"

"A couple. One my way home now. Burgers or hoagies for dinner?"

"Salad?"

To this last message there was no response. Sam imagined that Dean could not find words sufficiently derisive.

Sure enough, when Dean pulled in twenty minutes later, he carried only a greasy fast food bag.

"I had them put extra lettuce on yours," he smirked, tossing a burger to Sam.

Past caring, he unwrapped the paper and began to scarf down the dinner. "Fruit and vegetables are important you know," he said around a full mouth. "Especially with our schedule, we need to stay healthy."

Digging again into the bag Dean replied, "Yeah, well burgers have lots of iron. Good for when you're on your period."

Sam swallowed and rolled his eyes as Dean twisted his head to look around the room.

"Where's Cas?" he asked. "I got him one too."

"Out doing re-con," Sam replied, taking another bite.

"Is he doing okay?" Dean asked with raised eyebrows.

Sam chuckled. "I think you may have offended his mighty angel pride when you told him colds were for bitches."

"Yeah well, if I can work after thirty years of demonic torture, he can work through this." Dean's voice was casual but a hint of guilt remained as he tucked in to his own burger.

After scarfing down dinner, the brothers set to comparing notes on the day's research. Dean had photocopied a slew of newspaper articles and began to make links to adoption records from 1995.

"Of course, the kid may not have been put up for adoption. The mother could still be possessed," Sam mentioned after an hour of leaving through paperwork.

"Then why would it still be bragging on creating the anti-Christ? They'd just keep it under wraps until the big show," Dean pointed out.

Sam chewed his lip. "Well what if the demon was exorcised but the mother survived and raised the kid herself. Maybe it's just like before, where the demons don't know where the kid is either."

Dean groaned. "I don't even want to think about trying to find it then."

And so they decided for the time being to keep with the resources they had, which showed two, very promising, leads. One of these was even local.

"I guess we're down to Kasey Harbor or Elizabeth Citrimax," said Sam, rolling his head and cracking the joints in his neck, stiff from so much reading.

"It's Kasey Harbor," Castiel's voice suddenly broke out from behind Dean.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped, whirling around to see the angel only inches away. Initial shock passing, Sam was startled to see Castiel's hair and coat more wrinkled than usual, and a long, thin gash above one of his eyes.

"Oh man, what happened?"

Castiel's voice maintained it usual, solemn drone, only a hint deeper than usual. "It turns out I have fewer allies than I thought. One of the angels I went to meet was less than pleased to see me."

He ran his thumb lightly across the bleeding cut before throwing the same hand before his mouth in a violent coughing fit. He finished it up with two more sneezes, "Aichii!! Aichii!"

"Gesundheit," Sam had stridden across the room and back, now standing across from a sniffling Castiel. He pressed an ice pack into the angel's hand while he surveyed the gash across the forehead.

"It doesn't look that bad. I think you can go without stitches," he murmured. Then to Dean, "What do you think?"

There was only wordless grumbling from Dean who simply flipped to another page of the file they had accrued on Kasey Harbor. "She was left at the Sisters of Saint Agnes when she was six months old. Her mother had just been killed in a car accident."

"So the demon had already left the mother?" Sam queried. He lifted Castiel's hand bearing the ice pack to the injury and motioned for him to hold it firm.

"I believe the demon left after the accident," Castiel spoke up. "If enough people saw the accident, it couldn't easily have stayed with the vessel."

"So who dropped her off at the convent?" Sam asked.

"I guess whoever got the kid after the mother died," Dean suggested. "Maybe they were noticing some of that freaky demon shit going on in the nursery and couldn't take it anymore." He looked up at Castiel who had his nose pressed tightly between a thumb and forefinger, eyes squinting shut.

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

Castiel opened an eye and peered back. "I did not wish to sneeze while you were spea- spe- eeh atchii!" He sighed. "Speaking."

"Son of bitch," Dean mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Castiel appeared sheepish. "I apologize."

"Don't worry about it," said Sam kindly, passing the tissue box.

"I thought angels weren't supposed to get sick," Dean said, after Castiel had noisily blown his nose.

"We're dot," he croaked. "But thed, we're dot supposed to bleed either." He indicated the cut on his head briefly before breaking into a coughing fit.

"You are kind of a mess dude," Dean said with a joking tone. "We seriously need to trade you in for the newer model."

He chuckled to himself as he headed into the bathroom. Only Sam, left behind in the room, saw the look of hurt in Castiel's eyes.

********

Really not sure if I like this story but I'm trying to stay motivated at least to finish it. I definitely accept suggestions for later chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**********

"Hey give Cas a call, will you?" Dean called out over the roar of the shower before breaking into a second verse of "Simple Man".

The night before, they had finalized the plan for the convent trip. After a lengthy argument, Dean had won out. Now, Sam adjusted the collar over his clerical shirt while looking in the crooked hotel mirror. "They won't question ministers," Dean had insisted. "And if they do, Cas'll be there to slap some biblical knowledge down onto them."

"We're so going to hell," murmured Sam to himself as he dialed the angel with one hand and combed his freshly washed hair with the other. "Again."

When Castiel appeared, Sam knew enough not to be startled by the sudden arrival. What did startle him was the angel's appearance.

There were bags under Castiel's eyes and a complete absence of color from his cheeks. His nose was so red it was almost comical.

"Hello Sam," he greeted gravely. "Are we ready to go?"

His voice was almost gone, reduced to a hoarse rumble. The cough, which punctuated his question, had a sharp painful quality to it and it brought tears to his eyes.

Sam eyed him up and down, incredulous. "Wow Cas, you don't look so good. Are you okay?"

Castiel looked back, curiously. "I have a cold, Sam. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah but, I mean, you look _really_ bad. Where did you go last night?"

"I was waiting while you slept."

"Waiting where?"

Instead of speaking Castiel pointed a finger out the window across the parking lot.

"You waited outside?"

He nodded.

"All night?"

"I wanted to be close in case you needed anything."

"Cas, it rained last night."

"Only until four," he croaked. "It then slowed to a drizzle until about five-thirty and was completely over by six."

Sam sighed but before he could continue, Dean emerged in a blast of steam, holding a towel around his waist.

He looked at Castiel and let out a low whistle. "Dude, you look like death."

Leaning confidentially toward his brother, Sam whispered. "Dean, I think maybe Cas should sit this one out."

Dean looked past to see the angel furtively trying to blow his nose without making a sound.

"Hey Cas, do you need to sit this one out?"

Castiel flushed and shoved the handkerchief into his trenchcoat pocket. "No Dean, I'm okay."

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder with his free hand. "There you go Sammy, he's fine."

Without another word he grabbed his own costume and disappeared again into the bathroom to get dressed.

The Sisters of St. Agnes hailed from a squat brick building on a crowded Chicago street corner. School children played double dutch in the street and slightly older children smoked and leaned against a parked car. One boy, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, frantically tossed a cigarette butt to the ground when the trio neared.

"Good morning, Fathers," he greeted with a mockingly sweet tone.

Sam nodded silently but Dean strode forth, resting a hand lightly on the hood of the car.

"Is this a '71 Camaro?" he asked, salivating. "Man this car is such a chick magnet." He looked up from the beautiful machine to see both the boy and his brother staring at him.

"Uh, I mean," he righted himself. "You shouldn't fornicate. Or smoke."

"Nice job, Dean," Sam said, dryly, as they walked away.

Castiel sneezed and Sam pulled a packet of Kleenex he had strategically remembered to bring.

"No thank you," Castiel said. "I found this in Jimmy's coat." He pulled from the folds a wrinkled handkerchief. "I prefer it."

Dean grimaced at the sight. "Gross dude." He walked a few paces ahead. Castiel mumbled to Sam.

"You know, perhaps I will take those tissues. It is more sanitary."

Without looking, Sam passed the packet to Castiel and strode to walk beside his brother.

"Dude why are you being such a jackass to Cas lately?"

"What?" Dean looked back to see the angel fiddling with the plastic wrapping. "What are you talking about?"

"You know he's not feeling good but you're still giving him shit whenever you get the chance."

"Aw come on man, he knows I'm kidding."

"I don't think he does, Dean."

"Of course he does." Dean stopped walking and waiting a moment for Castiel to catch up. He had finally freed a tissue from the pack and now pressed it desperately to his runny nose. He looked up at the boys just before running into them.

"What?" he asked, mildly indignant.

"Cas, man, you know you really don't have to come out if you're not feeling up to it."

Castiel sniffed thickly before returning the tissue to his coat pocket. "I am perfectly able to work."

"Are you sure?" A hint of sympathy had inched into Dean's voice and Castiel hardened against it.

"Absolutely. It is only a human illness."

"Fair enough," Dean eyed Castiel warily. The angel quickly changed the subject.

"So what lie are we going to tell in this situation?"

Sam winced at the expression but explained. "You and Dean are from the Archdioces trying to decide whether to allocate funding for their orphanage. I'm going to need a lengthy bathroom break in the building."

"Last night was taco night at the monastery," Dean quipped.

"Well then," Castiel began to speak but his eyes glazed over. Quickly he pulled the tissue from his pocket and used it to pinch his nose tightly until he his breathing again became regular. He continued, "Let's do it."

**********

"As you can see, there is not nearly sufficient space to accommodate all the children we have here," Sister Mary Catherine's nasally voice fit well with her pointed chin and severe eyes. She held open a door as Dean and Castiel entered her office.

"We have nearly 35 wards sharing 10 dormatory rooms. Ideally we would like to expand our building so that housing and classes would be kept separate. That way the children develop a stronger sense of home."

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Castiel was fighting off another sneeze and spoke up.

"How do you get most of your wards?" He struggled to maintain his holy visage, adding a smile to his question. Being a detective came so much more naturally.

"It's mostly young unwed mothers, prostitutes often, who want their children free from the sins that plagued their own lives." She smiled and the expression seem alien on her wrinkled face. "We are blessed to be able to help who we can."

"Any unsual cases?" Dean asked, then corrected himself. "I mean like, heart-warming stories, sob stories, little girls who want to join up one day? When we present your case to the diocese, adding a personal touch might help."

The nun pursed her lips and thought.

Castiel rubbed his nose with his palm and tried to keep the water out of his eyes.

"There is someone…" she began.

Unfortunately, at this moment, Castiel lost his battle and pitched forward in a fit of sneezing. "Aitchii! Aitchii!! Aitchii!!!"

Dean failed to keep the scowl from his face.

"I'b so sorry," the angel rasped when he could speak again. He wiped his eyes and tried not to look at his partner.

"God bless you," said Mary Catherine cordially.

Castiel turned and fixed his gaze on her. His face warmed and a smile broke.

"Thank you," he said emphatically.

"Anyway, sister," Dean interrupted. "You were telling us about a girl, err, an orphan?"

"Yes, well she is very interested in becoming a nun, actually. It's highly unusual for one of our wards to choose this path. I'm afraid most of them who come as children find our teachings a bit too," she paused and thought, "stringent."

"But this girl…" Dean prompted.

"Yes, Kasey Harbor. She had always been elated with our work. She volunteers with us and prays with us. When you put in our request, you really should mention Kasey."

She eyed Castiel who was trying to cough without opening his mouth.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually it's quite sad…" Mary Catherine was again interrupted by a violent sneeze from Castiel. It set him off into a fit of coughing that doubled him at the waist. When he righted himself, tears streamed from his red eyes.

"Look Father Cobain," the nun looked pained. "Father Hendrix is clearly unwell and, while I don't wish to seem ungrateful, we really can't afford the germs right now. The children are just getting over a flu outbreak. Why don't I just send you Kasey's file?"

"Of course. That would be fine." Dean hesitated to agree but the nun had already risen to see them out.

In the parking lot, Sam leaned against the Impala, waiting. Ealier than anticipated he saw Dean emerge from the yard, brow furrowed and stride quick. Behind him skulked Castiel looking miserable.

"What happened?" He asked but Dean held up a hand.

"Not now Sam."

He moved past the young Winchester and slid into the driver's seat. Sam pulled up beside him and raised a hand to the sullen Castiel as they pulled away. He was torn with guilt for allowing Dean to leave him there, but knew better than to take his brother on when he was in this bad a mood. Later he would reason with him. They'd call Castiel to come over, give him a bed to sleep in. Maybe Dean would even make him some of his famous cold-busting tea. For now, though, Sam had to be content to ride along in silence while his brother fumed.

Castiel watched them pull from the parking lot sure he could sink no lower. After being rejected by his brothers, having his charges abandon him was a blow he found surprisingly harsh.

He coughed once, pressing a hand to his aching chest. With the other, he reached into his pocket and pulled a flier he had snagged from the church bulletin board.

He would make this right. He had to.


	3. Chapter 3

As many of you pointed out, _poor Cas_. I thought he needed some well-deserved nursing.

I've absolutely loved reading your reviews. Thank you guys so much!

And don't be too hard on Dean; he's dealing with his own stuff. I'm pretty sure he'll come around.

********

"Can I get all the volunteers over here?" A nun with a megaphone called over the hum of the crowd.

Something about that would have amused Dean, Castiel was sure. He wasn't exactly sure why. He watched as the people around him quieted and the nun briefly conferred with another. The second nun gave her hand to the first so the woman was able to hoist herself atop a long folding table, the skirt of long black dress balled between her fingers.

It was funny. Castiel even chuckled a little. Although he still wasn't quite sure why.

The nun continued. "Paint brushes and rollers are around the other side of the building. Everything's going to be yellow so there's no real confusion there. If you have any questions ask one of the sisters. And thank you all so much for coming out today to help. I'm sure you all can see how much the community center needs it."

With that the crowd began to disperse. It was mostly young adults or teenagers, laughing and jovial to be at work on this sunny Saturday. Castiel felt completely out of place. He lingered at the back of a crowd of people, dabbing at his raw, chapped nose, while he observed.

It seemed simple enough. Rub a roller into a pan of paint, press the paint onto the side of the building. Determined to play his role as well as the Winchesters had taught him, Castiel hurried to grab his own supplies.

A half an hour later his arms were trembling with fatigue and sweat dripped from his brow. His nose dripped too and coughing had started to hurt his head.

No one he had met had introduced themselves as Kasey Harbor. He wiped his brow and surveyed the nearby volunteers. Hadn't he spoken to all of these already? Sister Mary Catherine had said that the girl liked to volunteer with the convent didn't she? Maybe he was confused. Castiel shivered despite the heat. He was glad Sam and Dean weren't here to witness another of his failed attempts.

He stepped back from his portion of the wall to observe the painting job. Compared to those around him it was crooked and uneven, too thick in some place and too thin in others. As he continued to stare at the long yellow wall, though, the colors seemed to blend, until the paint stretched wide across his vision filling every available slot with banana yellow.

The next thing he knew, there was a stinging pain in the back of his head and voices were crowded around him.

"Is he okay?"

"Somebody get some water."

Castiel opened his eyes to find himself laying flat on the concrete. A cool bottle of water was pressed to his lips and his head was lifted to meet it.

"Are you awake?" A concerned voice broke from the rest and he turned to see a pair of ice green eyes looking worriedly at him.

"I have a cold," he said in a daze.

"You fainted," a girl explained sweetly, with a caring smile. "Are you feeling any better, yet?"

Castiel thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Good," she smiled again and helped him to a sitting position. At some point the crowd had dispersed and he was left alone with this female child.

"Can you stand?" she asked. "It would be better for you to come sit in the shade."

He nodded again and slowly pulled himself up. Dizziness threatened to take him again but the steady arms of this skinny girl were surprisingly supportive. He let the girl lead him to a wooden bench, just outside the din of painters.

"Is he all right?" An older man stopped nearby and addressed the girl. He held up a hand to block the sun from his eyes.

"I think he's just dehydrated," she replied, twisting open another bottle of water.

"Well let us know if you need anything," the man smiled and spoke to Castiel. "Kasey will take good care of you."

The child nodded cordially, continuing to grin. "Thank you father."

'This is her,' Castiel thought. 'This is the girl who is half-demon.' He struggled for words yet his tongue seemed too heavy to form them. He tried to swallow but the stinging through his throat was intense and made him visibly wince.

Misunderstanding the pain in his eyes, Kasey hurriedly asked, "Is it your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell."

Instictively, Castiel raised a hand to the lump on the back of his scalp. Now that she mentioned it, it did throb quite a bit.

The girl reached behind her into a cooler that had seemed to materialize. From it she pulled a plastic baggie, filled with a strange blue liquid. Castiel stared at it for a moment before she laughed and brought it gently to the back of his head.

Her touch caused him at first to flinch, but the cooling sensation began to numb the pain, and the angel relaxed into it.

"Can you hold it?" she asked, rummaging around again in the cooler.

Wordlessly, Castiel took the ice pack, cautiously studying her next movement.

"This sun's really done a number on you," she said, face buried in the red, plastic box. "You're very hot."

Now Castiel flashed back to another day. An evening, in a dive bar with Dean. "You're freakin' hot," he had told a bubbly blonde.

"Thank you," Castiel said now.

Kasey's head popped up, a bit startled. She stared for a moment before breaking into a laugh. Her voice was young and lyrical and Castiel smiled along with it.

Still laughing she began to pour ice water across the handful of towels she had retrieved. She wrung out the excess water and gently laid a cool sheet across the back of Castiel's neck. With another she lightly dabbed at his forehead, frowning at the touch.

"Did you have a fever before you came out today?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "A fever?"

She folded the towel again and began to wrap it around the pulse points on his wrists. "Yeah, sometimes a fever comes with a bug like you've got."

"Bug?"

She gave him a confused look with another laugh. "You don't get sick very often, do you?"

"I have never been sick before."

She looked incredulous. "Never?"

He shook his head but, before he could answer he popped forward with a sudden sneeze, desperately closing his nose between his fingers. "Ktxxh!"

This time the satisfaction of the sneeze was overpowered by the stabbing pain through his throat and the aching in his head. He grimaced and Kasey frowned.

"Poor guy," she murmured as he sank back against the bench, completely drained.

He opened an eye and studied her. She seemed genuinely grieved at his suffering. And yet, this was the Anti-Christ. This was the greatest weapon of the Apocolypse. This was the creature whom heaven would command him to destroy. And yet, the way she looked at him, with a combination of child and mother, the clear compassion she felt… It was very confusing.

His train of thought was interrupted by another tickling through his nose.

"Oh no," he said, leaning forward on his knees and pinching his nostrils tightly.

Realization quickly dawned on Kasey as she pulled another paper towel from her collection and held it out. He didn't look up but shook his head.

"I do dot wish to sdeeze agaid," he said thickly. "It is very paidful."

The girl struggled not to laugh. "Well if you don't hold it back like that, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Now he looked up at her through violently watering eyes. She seemed confident and the impending sneeze wouldn't yield. He snatched the towel and sneezed harshly into it, "Ah iihh itchii!"

Although his head continued to throb, this sneeze did not make his throat want to explode. And the relief was there again.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," he sighed and smiled.

She started to dab at his forehead again and began to speak in a conversational tone.

"Why did you come out today if you're so sick?"

"I cannot afford to let illness get in the way of my work," he said gravely.

Kasey raised her eyebrows. "I know the community center is important and all but it's not like it's life or death."

Castiel chuckled mirthlessly. She had no idea.

"It's important to take care of yourself," she said reflectively. "You seem like a good guy. Cut yourself a little slack."

He had to force himself to stop staring at the mystifying and gentle child. Her presentation of compassion was so foreign from what he had seen before. Her logic was simple and without question. It was just a truth she did not question. He thought for a moment of Dean, unwilling to allow Castiel the slightest weakness. But then, had Dean ever allowed himself the slightest weakness? When had the hunter ever cut himself "a little slack"? For a moment his chest seemed to hurt in another, unfamiliar feeling. Sickness again? Most likely.

Castiel started to cough and had to clutch his throat, sure it would fly to pieces with the hacking. He accepted the proffered candy Kasey held out with an increasing trust.

"It's just a mint," she told him. "But it should help your throat a little."

It did and Castiel smiled as the last of coughing died out.

"So you've really never been sick before?" she asked thoughtfully, taking a bottle of water for herself.

"Never," he cleared his throat. "I… I appreciate your help." He stumbled over the words, unused to expressing gratitude. "I am very unfamiliar with human sickness."

"Well you lucked out," she laughed at his words. "I'm actually quite a pro at it."

********

On the way back from the convent Dean refused to speak. After stopping at a drive-thru, he tossed a bag to his brother, daring him to argue over being given another cheeseburger. When Sam didn't complain, Dean focused back on driving, shoveling french fries with his spare hand.

When they got back to the motel, Dean headed in quickly and left Sam trudging behind. He watched as his older brother paced restlessly across the floor with the trash from their impromptu meal. He passed the trash can three times without seeming to see it, rolling the ball of trash through his hand, agitated and twitchy.

Sam watched as Dean finally discovered the wastebasket and threw away the remains of lunch. There were actually remains. Leftover food. Food that Dean did not eat. Still, Sam didn't speak. He stared as Dean sat on the edge of the bed for a brief moment, before rising and crossing the room back to the table with the case notes. He flipped through the pages too quickly to read anything and then paced back across the floor, now sitting on the other bed.

"Do you want to talk?" Sam finally asked, getting dizzy with all of his brother's fidgeting.

"What?" Dean actually jumped, as though surprised to see Sam in the room.

"You just seemed… concerned," Sam carefully placed the last word.

"I'm fine."

"Feeling guilty? I mean you did just abandon him."

"Seriously Sammy?" Dean's voice raised a pitch and he scowled. "He's a friggin' angel. In two seconds he'll poof right back over here, just as irritatingly, self-righteous as ever."

His words were crass but Sam noticed his gaze was still distracted; looking at something only he could see.

"If you're sure man," Sam leaned back in his seat. "He was pretty messed up when you abandoned him."

"Will you stop saying I abandoned him? He'll be fine."

"I sure hope so," Sam said lightly. "It _is_ his first time being sick."

Now Dean fixed his eyes, only briefly, on his interlocutor. Sam could see the genuine fear in his brother's face before being quickly thrust aside in favor of ire.

"Oh for Chrissake," Dean practically yelled. He rose and grabbed his coat, pacing quickly across the room, as if too angry to remain near Sam for a moment longer.

"I'm going out," he growled, slamming the door behind him.

Sam couldn't keep the smirk from his lips as he wove his fingers behind his head and leaned back into his hands.

********

Thanks again for all your reviews. They're definitely driving me to hold a higher standard for myself. In all likelihood I'll have the ending finished before the day is out.

Does Dean feel guilty for convincing Cas to join them?


	4. Chapter 4

All right guys, sorry but this is going to be it for this story. I'll try to do some more along this line, at some point. Again suggestions are welcomed/encouraged/loved. Please forgive me for ending the story here, but I'm just a little burned out on this one.

Thanks so much for all your reviews. I hope the ending is satisfactory.

*********

"She's dying," the gravelly voice appeared behind Sam while he sat at his laptop.

"I know," he replied, closing an email. "I just got her file from the church."

"Leukemia," Castiel felt the strange word roll around in his mouth. "She told me."

"You talked to her?"

"She- she helped me," the angel reached a tentative hand to the bump on his head. The throbbing had slowed a bit and he could still feel the coldness of the ice pack in his hair.

Now Sam turned around, surprised. "The anti-Christ helped you?"

"She's not so bad," Castiel seated himself on the chair and pulled out a tissue to blow his nose.

Sam eyed him. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully.

"A lot better, actually. Kasey gave me some medicine."

Surprise mounted to incredulity. "'Kasey?' You call her Kasey and take pills she gives you? Cas, you really must be sick."

Castiel smiled fondly for a moment before it faded and he leaned forward. In a quiet and subdued voice he spoke, looking deeply into Sam's eyes.

"In heaven I always followed orders. Anna called me a 'good little soldier.' And I was. Even when the orders seemed wrong to me. When I met you and Dean, I could not understand why you found it so difficult to comply with what needed to be done. If someone is a spawn of a demon, or its vessel," he paused evocatively, "you kill them. It confused me that you didn't understand that."

He took a rusty breath and leaned back. "I get it now."

Castiel coughed into his handkerchief for a moment while Sam pondered.

"So what are we going to do about the girl?" he asked when Castiel had recovered.

"The doctors do not expect her to survive." Castiel's face shone through with sadness.

"How is that possible?" Sam asked. "I mean, she's half demon."

The angel shrugged looking away. "She's half human."

"So what, you're just going to let her die?"

Castiel looked back at the young hunter. "People die, Sam. And the girl, Kasey, she is very mature for her age. I believe she is ready."

"Still," Sam murmured, unsettled. His head jerked up again as Castiel burst with three, loud sneezes.

"Gesundheit."

"Thank you."

"You know, Cas," Sam said with a new pointedness. "Don't take it personally; what Dean did. And said. What he says most of the time."

Castiel continued to study the hunter, peeking out over the folds of handkerchief still pressed to his nose.

Sam went on, uncomfortably. "It's just hard for him… you know… to express himself. He's not trying to be mean. He just… he doesn't always know what to say…"

Castiel finished wiping his nose and put the handkerchief back into his pocket.

"It's okay, Sam," he said gravely. "I think I'm starting to understand why Dean is the way he is…"

Before continuing, the angel was interrupted by the abrupt sound of the door opening. Both men turned to see Dean letting himself in, clutching a brown, paper bag to his chest.

"Oh hey, you're back," he said when he saw Castiel.

He moved with the bag into the tiny kitchenette and started to empty mysterious packages onto the counter. "Where have you been?" he asked casually, not looking up.

Instead of answering, Castiel started to cough. Sam rested a large hand on his shoulder and replied for him.

"Paling around with the Anti-Christ, apparently."

Dean whirled around and fixed his gaze on his brother. "And?"

"It seems," Sam pursed his lips, "she's not a threat."

"She's dying," Castiel interjected, through gasps.

"Oh _she's_ dying," Dean said sardonically, watching as Castiel's thin body was wrecked by the coughing fit.

For once, Sam noticed, there seemed to be no shield over Dean's eyes. He stared helplessly at the angel, mouth twisting in pain, brow crooked with concern. When he noticed his brother looking, Dean quickly turned back around to finish unloading his groceries.

Sam leaned forward to see exactly what Dean was doing. When he could finally see, comprehension dawned and his eyes brightened. He gave the recovering Castiel another clap on the back and rose.

"I've got some errands to run," he said quickly. Without waiting for a reply he strode from the room, leaving the angel alone with the elder Winchester.

"We'll have to keep an eye on her," Castiel said hoarsely. "Now that we know where she is, it shouldn't be hard. But I doubt the demons will find her before…"

He trailed off as Dean held up a hand.

"If you say she's okay, she's okay. I trust you."

Castiel suddenly realized that these words were the most difficult the hunter could say. He watched Dean's back as he continued his secretive task at the counter. Of all the people Dean had known, of all those he had saved, or spent time with, or 'been' with, it was this sentiment, one of trust, which he guarded most closely.

"Thank you, Dean," he said sincerely.

The hunter glanced back with raised eyebrows and smiled boyishly. He was oblivious to the depth of his words and Castiel felt, not for the first time, that he understood the man better than he knew himself. Probably better than he cared to.

As Castiel pondered he was again stricken by the irrepressible urge to sneeze. The tissues were buried deep on an inside pocket so he hastily grabbed the handkerchief and thrust it before his face.

"Aichii!!!" He wiped his nose sheepishly, ready for another quip about the revulsion of handkerchiefs.

But Dean hardly seemed to notice as he carried a steaming mug from the kitchen to the bed where Castiel sat.

"Bless you."

Castiel was taken aback by the simplicity of it. He was delighted with the well-wishing which Sam had told him was a sign of compassion and he was warmed by the blessing.

"Thank you," he said earnestly.

"What's this?" he asked, as Dean handed him the mug.

"Don't ask, just drink."

Not the first time he'd heard that from this particular Winchester, Castiel willing opened up and took a long gulp of the hot liquid.

A moment later he was trying not to gag, another new, and horrible, feeling from his vessel.

"That's awful," he gasped when he could talk.

"And?" asked Dean expectantly.

"And," Castiel took toll for a moment. For the first time in days he felt no pain in his throat. It was as though the searing liquid had numbed him through. His chest, also, felt lighter. "I feel better."

Dean grinned proudly. "That, my friend, is my famous cold-busting tea. Tastes like ass, works like magic."

"What's in it?" Castiel asked, cautiously taking another, smaller, sip.

"You so don't want to know."

Castiel drank again, liking the flavor more with each sip. Dean cleared his throat.

"Castiel, I'm sorry," he finally blurted out, squirming uncomfortably.

Castiel shrugged. "I'm sorry I messed up the interview."

Now Dean looked puzzled. Clearly they were not on the same page.

"No Cas, I'm not sorry for that. Well I mean, I am. I was being a dick but…" he trailed off. He tried to gather his thoughts and finally sat on other bed, facing Castiel. He cupped his hands together and drew breath, determine to talk through the awkwardness.

"I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry you got hurt," his breath caught and he cleared his throat ruggedly. "I'm sorry your powers are gone." He barked a laugh. "You traded it all in for what, a chance to be a starting player on Team Long-Shot?"

He took a breath and looked away. "You shouldn't be doing this with us. We're in war between Heaven and Hell and we chose what, option C, none-of-the-above? It's kind of a guaranteed lose. You shouldn't be dragged down with us." His voice dropped. "I shouldn't have asked you."

There was a long silence.

Castiel fought against his better instinct for a moment before resting a hand on his friend's arm.

"Dean," he said when he finally made eye contact. "This isn't your war. Not yours alone anyway. I'm here because I chose to be."

He pulled his hand back and looked into his cup. "None-of-the-above, it's the best choice. It's the only choice."

Dean nodded through a clenched jaw. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Well, um, why don't you stay and rest for a little while." He gestured across the room. "You can use Sam's bed."

"Are you sure?" Castiel asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Dean said brusquely. "We can stand an afternoon off right?"

Without waiting for an answer his swung himself onto his own bed and started clicking channels on the fuzzy television set.

"Ahh," he sighed with content as the screen filled with a scene of screaming masses.

"Nothing makes you feel better when you're sick than watching Tokyo get crushed by a giant lizard," he explained, cranking up the volume.

Castiel nodded doubtfully but bit back his questions. When he slid down the bed and looked over at Dean, enthralled with the bad special effects now playing out across the TV, he felt that strange feeling in his chest again. Not quite pain, it seemed. And definitely not related to sickness. Just a noticeable tinge of something familiar. And not altogether unpleasant.

The End

**********

What do you think? Too fluffy? Forgive me if it is, but don't hate too hard. I tried.

Thanks especially to Alone Dreaming for hashing some of this out with me. Godzilla is for you.


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